The gard'ner wi' his paidle
The crystal waters gently fa';
The merry birds are lovers a';
The scented breezes round him blaw--
The gard'ner wi' his paidle.

II.

When purple morning starts the hare
To steal upon her early fare,
Then thro' the dews he maun repair--
The gard'ner wi' his paidle.
When day, expiring in the west,
The curtain draws of nature's rest,
He flies to her arms he lo'es best--
The gard'ner wi' his paidle.

* * * * *

LXVIII.

BLOOMING NELLY.

Tune--"_On a bank of flowers._"

[One of the lyrics of Allan Ramsay's collection seems to have been in
the mind of Burns when he wrote this: the words and air are in the
Museum.]

I.

On a bank of flowers, in a summer day,
For summer lightly drest,
The youthful blooming Nelly lay,
With love and sleep opprest;
When Willie wand'ring thro' the wood,
Who for her favour oft had sued,
He gaz'd, he wish'd, he fear'd, he blush'd,
And trembled where he stood.

II.

Her closed eyes like weapons sheath'd,
Were seal'd in soft repose;
Her lips still as she fragrant breath'd,
It richer dy'd the rose.
The springing lilies sweetly prest,
Wild--wanton, kiss'd her rival breast;
He gaz'd, he wish'd, he fear'd, he blush'd--
His bosom ill at rest.

III.

Her robes light waving in the breeze
Her tender limbs embrace;
Her lovely form, her native ease,
All harmony and grace:
Tumultuous tides his pulses roll,
A faltering, ardent kiss he stole;
He gaz'd, he wish'd, he fear'd, he blush'd,
And sigh'd his very soul.

IV.

As flies the partridge from the brake,
On fear-inspired wings,
So Nelly, starting, half awake,
Away affrighted springs:
But Willie follow'd, as he should,
He overtook her in a wood;
He vow'd, he pray'd, he found the maid
Forgiving all and good.

* * * * *

LXIX.

THE DAY RETURNS.

Tune--"_Seventh of November._"

[The seventh of November was the anniversary of the marriage of Mr.
and Mrs. Riddel, of Friars-Carse, and these verses were composed in
compliment to the day.]

I.

The day returns, my bosom burns,
The blissful day we twa did meet,
Tho' winter wild in tempest toil'd,
Ne'er summer-sun was half sae sweet.